One Spark of Hope
by Quixa
Summary: Rogue's POV during Self-Possessed. What could happen there in the end, when her powers were exhausted and Wolverine caught her? She was hurt so deeply by Risty's betrayal- what could have given her that one spark of hope she needed to heal? (Author has returned after a long hiatus with every intention of finishing this story!)
1. Broken Shield

_Disclaimer: I obviously do not own any of the X-Men characters... Don't get me wrong, it would be SWEET if I did... but I digress. I'll do my very best to adhere to the personalities of the characters, I promise!_

One Spark of Hope

Even before she'd registered exactly what had happened, Rogue's entire body seized up, instinctively recognizing the repercussions of her skin-on-skin contact with Risty. It would have been so casual a touch for any normal person, like a hug or handshake. But even subconsciously, it was like her body fell into the pattern of the lethal absorption her mutant powers brought. Blood thrummed through her ears, pounding in her temples as her hands and teeth clenched. Her vision flashed from black to full color and back; her breathing went quick and shallow. She was only vaguely aware of the hundreds of dancing teens around her, of the deep bass pounding steadily from two giant amps by the stage, or of the form of Risty falling away from Rogue's lethal touch. Was it her eyes, or did Risty's hair look suddenly… orange?

And then came that crushing wave of images. A distant, unsurprised part of Rogue's mind wondered which visions of Risty's life would flood her senses. A trip to some London playground when she was four, perhaps? Or maybe her first kiss in the English rain?

Rogue set her feet and readied for the unbalancing sensation of confused pictures to overtake her, closing her mind as the professor had taught her in his weekly sessions with her. Professor X had taught her to retreat into herself, to wrap a mental shield of light around herself to keep at bay the foreign identities in her head. As it stood, she could usually just barely keep her concentration when the flood hit her. But she hadn't counted on her weird condition lately, the weird, heightened sense of her own powers like an acrid taste in her mouth. She vaguely remembered Logan offering a mangled tennis racket for her inspection that morning before at last her floodgates broke, and in a blinding, boiling rush came the onslaught of alien memories.

But the images Rogue dissolved into were not those of a teen girl; they weren't the flighty, colorful sensations she expected of her vivacious friend. Instead, Rogue saw a slender, blue-skinned woman sprawled on the floor of the X-mansion. She gasped; the next image that slid through her was one she personally remembered: still, frigid air of a darkened cave as Rogue herself grasped the hand of the same blue woman, unprotected skin against unprotected skin. She saw her friend Risty as she knew, the fiery bronze eyes dancing as she teased Rogue about her lack of a social life.

And that's when she made the connection. Her Risty, her best friend, the girl she'd trusted with her life, who she'd even gone so far as to explain the dreaded secret of her mutation to earlier that day, was _Mystique_. Risty, who'd gone with her to pick a hot outfit for the Sadie Hawkins dance, who'd helped her capture a monster from another dimension at that very event, was her enemy. But it went beyond that… She saw who she assumed was Mystique in disguise as a warm, blonde woman holding a little girl with auburn hair and grey eyes in the sunshine. She saw Mystique and… herself. Rogue staggered forward a few steps before her knees hit the ground.

And _that_, that moment was when Rogue's entire world stretched out like a rubber band and… snapped.

Something foreign slammed through her veins. Her muscles were simply _flexible_, and she knew instinctively that she could shape them in any way she could imagine. Mystique's flat _power _to assume the gift of creation, to make herself in her own image, seized her body while her mind rolled on unencumbered by reason or want, reeling in her sick new discovery.

_Risty was Mystique was… her mother?_

A molten, uncontrollable rage hammered into her, knocking what little control she had left aside. The shield of light inside her mind shattered, leaving her in total darkness as she wrestled with the fury and betrayal. With her mental ears, she heard a feral snarl from the shadows of her mind. This was wrong, so wrong… The Professor had helped her perfect her mental shield to protect her victims from her powers by vesting her with some semblance of control, while it also protected Rogue from forgetting who she was entirely, as she had her first few absorptions. The shield was designed to keep two personalities separate while Rogue absorbed them. So who was lurking around here besides herself and Mystique?

That's when he pounced.

Sabertooth erupted from the gloom of Rogue's shadow-world, clawed fingers curling around her upper arms. She was too disoriented to scream.

At that same moment, Rogue's physical hands grew to the size of plates. The muscles on her arms expanded, wiry cords of muscle rippling with the change. Her hair lengthened down past her shoulder-blades, lightening to the color of old gold as vicious fangs slid out of her gums. Her eyes yellowed and her sense of smell quadrupled, bringing the various scents of hundreds of people to her attention.

Rogue got to her feet, embracing the raw rage as she towered well over the heads of every other concert-goer. She threw back her head---

_Mystique was Risty was her mother was Mystique was…_

--- and roared her animal wrath to the sky.

_Cliffeh! ^^ I'll get to it soon! I've got a lot of ideas for this!_


	2. The Unstoppable Rogue

_Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the Marvel characters (not for lack of desiring to, of course). Still keeping character personalities as best I can._

Rogue-Sabertooth threw back her head and roared her animal fury to the sky.

Echoing exclamations of horror and panic answered her call as the surrounding teens caught sight of the fully-grown and completely enraged image of Sabertooth cutting a lethal path toward the stage. Eyes fixed on the lead singer, Rogue waded through the masses, void of any intention or purpose other than to have no cares, no attachments, no weaknesses.

Deep inside her mind, Rogue's shield evaporated into the shadows like a night fog. She could still hear Sabertooth's vicious being stalking through the darkness, but she had no desire to wait for him to find her. Icy panic slicing through her, she bolted blindly into the shadows, terrified and completely cut off from her physical self.

Physical Rogue vaulted onto the stage and wheeled around to face the waves of people in front of her. Sabertooth's frenzied hatred for all of them driving her on, she loosed a feral snarl before springing onto a tower of amps to her left. She felt them shudder under her weight, and hurtled from them and into the tracery of lights and amps throughout the ceiling. She sensed the tower collapse, but didn't care enough to watch them plummet to the ground as she gripped a crossbar and swung across the stage, nonchalantly kicking another amp tower out of her way.

Landing lightly on the ground, Rogue leapt through knots of people as they ran in terror. Sabertooth's simple psyche fed off the chaos around her, urging her on to more destruction. Rogue complied, pouncing gracefully at a teen girl. Her lips peeled back in a leering grin and her claws extended as she aimed her weight for the impact.

At the very last second, a figure she dimly recognized, quite like someone from a not-too-distant dream, slid out of the faceless throngs of people and caught the shoulder of Rogue's target, sending Rogue straight through both of them.

Rogue swung around, furious to be denied her prize, and locked back on the two girls. She was so intent on them that she missed the approaching steps of a young boy before his arms circled her throat.

And then there were suddenly four of the boy, latched tight to her shoulders, scrabbling for purchase on her bare flesh. She snarled, and struggled violently even as she absorbed the boy and his abilities, sending him flying into a wall before she bounded back onto the stage.

Two men in uniforms sprinted into her line of vision, demanding that she stay where she was. Rogue spun on her heels, hefting a huge Crate amp and sending it flying into the guards before turning to face three more as they tackled her.

These were child's play, and she tossed them lightly aside. She almost smiled lazily, drunk with the discord she was causing, when twin red beams slammed into her chest and sent her reeling backwards into a brick wall.

Even Rogue's mental self caught the bone-shattering blow of bricks and rubble as half the wall collapsed onto her and sent her straight into the ground, burying her deep in the debris. The shock of it brought her back to reality. She stopped running and stood for a second in the shadows, gathering her control, and began the painstaking process of weaving her shield around herself again. The going was slow to begin with, and made slower by the fact that she was rapidly becoming aware of the crushing weight of the bricks on top of her. She was losing circulation, and she couldn't get much oxygen into her lungs. She guessed Sabertooth's incalculable strength was the only reason the rocks' weight hadn't killed her yet, and wondered if there was any way to hold onto his form long enough to escape the pressure. Or maybe shift to something stronger, if need be. After all, Mystique's powers _were_ limitless…

Mystique…

Rogue stumbled inside herself, losing the grip on her shield; it slipped a little, and she hurried to piece it back together again. She hit her knees.

Mystique…

She wished she could just be… unbreakable…

That's when two massive hands closed around her mental wrists… Rogue screamed, looking up into the eye-holes of a giant, domed mask. She felt her shield crackle and die once again, and she was plunged into the all-consuming, tangible shadows.

Her physical form shuddered before entering into the change. Her biceps became ham-sized, and her chest expanded to barrel-like proportions. Hair shrunk back into her scalp, going straight from gold to brown over a sloping forehead and vast, stubborn jaw. Hundreds of tons of pressure caught her fast like a vice, and the very thought of any sort of captivity sent her into a frenzy.

"I think he's down for the count!" announced a distantly familiar voice above the rubble. That's when Rogue-Juggernaut erupted from the debris like a god of pent-up fury, scattering rocks and bricks in every direction. She raised her huge fists into the air and grunted before careening through the stadium like a madman, promptly knocking her own exit into a three-feet-thick cement wall and marching out into the night, Mystique hot on her tracks.

Juggernaut's entity inside Rogue's mind, flatly content with the control he had won, was completely oblivious to his captive as mental Rogue slipped past him and slunk into the shadows.

_Whaddaya think? I hope it's not overly detailed… R and R, y'all? ___


	3. Regroup at the Mansion

_Sorry, I know I said this is all Rogue's POV, but I thought Wolverine seemed too involved there in the end to've NOT spent a while that day thinking about Rogue._

_Wolverine's POV_

Logan stared moodily into the dregs of his coffee. He watched the last whisps of steam funnel from the surface before his attention wandered back to the figure of a twisted racket at his right hand.

_Rogue…_

He remembered their conversation that morning and tried to pick apart the mixed emotions that had swirled over her face as he held that same racket up to her for recognition. Horror, guilt, confusion, resignation… Then her eyes lifted to his and he saw the utmost, desperate pleading in their depths. He'd been too shocked by that broken expression to say anything more. After all, his Rogue didn't surrender to _anyone_, didn't ask help of _anyone_.

"Well…" she'd opened, before Shadowcat appeared from nowhere and promptly dragged her away to school.

That lost, terrified expression had haunted him all day. Logan grunted and shoved his chair from the table, stretching as he stood. His eyes roamed the mansion's dimly-lit kitchen before locating the glaring red numbers from the microwave clock. 12:43. The half-pints should be back from their little concert by now, shouldn't they? He needed to speak to Rogue, to make sure the girl was okay.

Logan stalked through the belly of the mansion, careful not to wake the teachers or students who'd remained home for the evening. He's managed to gather his helmet and riding gloves and had just reached the front door when Kitty barreled through the door—literally. Logan had yet to learn to accept the sensation of having someone slide right through him. Kitty was on the other side of him before he recovered enough to assess the situation.

Scott supported a severely weakened Jamie through over the threshold. Jean and Kurt filed in behind them, Kurt so distraught he hadn't even noticed that his image inducer was powered down.

"What's the idea, Kid?" Logan grumbled. "Some reason I wasn't told you were goin' to examine my kidney from the _inside?_"

"Logan," she panted, "It's Sabertooth! He's on the loose!"

Logan snarled at the mention of his enemy's name.

"And Juggernaut and Mystique, too," Kurt finished. "Ve've got to do somezing."

"Wake the others," Logan ordered, but his heart wasn't really in it. He'd just realized who was missing from the little procession. "Where's Rogue?"

The four exchanged glances before Kurt stepped in.

"Vait, Kitty, you said Rogue was going vith Risty, right?"

Kitty nodded.

"I saw them together before Sabertooth appeared," Jean whispered, and a look of dawning fear rose in her eyes. "They… They probably just ran… And Rogue… She's on her way here. Right?"

Logan growled and headed out the door. Something was definitely very, very wrong here.

_Rogue's POV_

Meanwhile, miles away, Rogue herself knelt in the corner of a dark alley, eyes closed fast and breathing coming way too shallow. She'd wrestled in turn with the identities of Juggernaut, Magneto, Quicksilver, and Arcade before escaping each and finally making it to where she could collapse against this wall as herself. She didn't know where she was or where to go, and she barely knew her own name. All she could be sure of was the spinning of her head, the cold bricks against her back, and the image of some kind of shield of light.

And the soft padding of approaching footsteps at the mouth of the alley.

_I'm singing the cliffysong, heh heh! Y'all have an awesome day!_


	4. Search the Memories

_Sorry it took so long!! I was having file upload issues!_

Rogue lifted her head slowly, trying to focus through the dizziness of foreign emotions and experiences on whoever was approaching her hiding place. She felt Sabertooth's personality inside her mind rear up, demanding she not be caught off guard by the enemy, and battled him for control.

Mystique slipped from the darkness like a shadow herself, coming easily to rest in the center of the alley.

"Rogue," she called gently, like a friend, like a…

_She's NOT my mother,_ Rogue thought, gritting her teeth. Sabertooth snarled in her head, emboldened by her rage. Everything came back to her now, her life, her name, home, friends, her memories.

"Are you all right?" asked the shapeshifter.

"Get away from me!" Rogue growled, shoving herself from the wall and making to stumble past Mystique.

"Please listen," Mystique continued, and Rogue felt a rush of savage satisfaction to see her blue hand raise as if to brush her shoulder, then falter before the prospect of her mutant touch. "I know I hurt you. But I only posed as your friend so I could be near you."

In a very, _very_ small part of her mind, Rogue registered a hint of sincerity in Mystique's voice. But the more dominant part of her held no empathy. In fact, she felt her fury exploding against her reigns of control and fought to control it for only a second. She needed to contain the force, direct the power, use it as a medium to release her anger… _Change_ it.

Rogue's shield collapsed again as dark hands shot out of the shadows. She'd lost control again. Her skin darkened, eyes yellowed, hair lengthened and slipped into a deep russet orange.

Mystique's eyes widened as, within the space of a second, she found herself staring at a perfect mimicry of herself. Rogue's yellow eyes glared, fanged teeth glittering in a leer.

"Liar!" Rogue screamed, and Mystique was so taken aback to find herself looking at her own image that she couldn't even bring herself to block as Rogue snatched her arm and shoved her back into the alley.

"I know the truth!" Rogue shouted. "You used me to spy on the X-Men!"

"No," Mystique insisted, rising to her feet and reaching out futilely as Rogue turned her back and took a few steps forward. "It's not that simple!"

Rogue whirled around and aimed a high roundhouse straight for Mystique's face. Mystique slid down into a perfect dodge on the ground. "Please, don't do this."

Mystique stood before Rogue leaned in to the attack, punching high. She swiped Rogue's blow away and caught another before somersaulting backwards into the alley, narrowly missing a scissor-kick to the head.

Mystique righted herself and extended her hand. "If you have my memories, then you know what our relationship is."

Mental Rogue leapt from the shadows of her mind, tackling Mystique's personality in her head to the ground. She focused in and re-assembled her shield, trying desperately not to think of how much harder it was to recover it each time she needed to.

"I don't know _anything_," the Rogue in the alley insisted, shaking her head violently as she slid back into her own form.

"Admit the truth, Rogue. I adopted you when you were four."

"_No_!" Rogue drew her arm in a slashing gesture, squeezing her eyes shut against the memories that rose unbidden by her, like a film playing behind her eyelids.

…_The joy Rogue had felt leaving the orphanage for the first time, going to live with a mommy of her very own. She'd promised her a coloring book when she got home, and a new doll for her to play with…_

"Search the memories," Mystique continued.

…"_Here you are, Sweetheart," her mother announced, sliding a peanut butter sandwich across the bar of her old kitchen. "Your favorite."…_

…"_Jimmy Tanner, Mommy," cried a little Rogue as her mother held her close. "He pushed me on the slide!"…_

"You are my daughter."

Rogue couldn't handle it. Her whole childhood felt like a lie, a secret agenda for someone else's whims. The pain enveloped her, dulling every sense of reality. She turned and bolted from the alleyway.

Mystique followed at a sprint. "Rogue!"

Rogue stumbled slightly, still running somewhat blindly. Her hands went to her temples. She couldn't see straight as the tears she'd fought all night swirled in her eyes. She wanted to, _needed_ to escape…

Kurt.

Rogue felt the contractions of Nightcrawler's ability thrum through her. It was like light pressure all around her. Her ears popped, her chest constricted, and she just… disappeared.

_Courtney Summers: THANK YOU SO MUCH!!_

_DejectedBlithe: Hee hee, thanks! I do, too, which is where the story came from! Thanks!_

_Ondjage: Thank you, too! Oh, I don't plan for it to be Rogan-- I do love the brief pairing in the comics, but for Evolution I like the paternal relationship he has with Rogue. I mean look at hte girl-- she needs some sort of parental figure who knows how to show it (well... sort of, lol)!_


	5. The Perfect Storm

_Please allow me to offer my sincerest apologies for the time elapsed between the fourth and this new chapter. I wish I had a good excuse that wasn't "I got busy," but I started this story in first my couple of weeks of college as an English major, and between the constant battery of essays and such, I didn't have the energy to chase plot-bunnies for something more recreational. Every time I got an email telling me someone had reviewed or favorited this story, I felt a pinch of guilt for abandoning it. So now, four years later and four months before I graduate, I shall endeavor to finish this story. Thank you for your kind words and your patience!_

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, or I would have already faced their wrath for deserting the story so long ago!_

Kurt's borrowed power deposited her onto a rooftop across town. Rogue had finally managed to elude her inward tormentors for the time being, and was faintly aware that she was traveling closer to the mansion each time she regained her splintering control. Sighing, she staggered to the roof exit and slumped against the door, groaning slightly at the thundering headache that apparently accompanied such a psychological onslaught. A motorcycle grumbled somewhere in the distance, reminding her of Logan. She remembered his face that morning as he offered the mangled racket so long ago with such concern in his eyes. He would help her, she knew, if she could only keep her wits about herself long enough to get back to the mansion.

The sound of the motorcycle's engine drew closer, and Rogue's heart slammed into her throat. It sounded so like Logan's. Could it really be his—?

She hadn't even managed to finish the thought before Sabertooth reacted, seizing her control with primal aggression the instant he'd scented an opportunity to fight his old enemy. For the second time Rogue experienced the disorienting sensation of being thrown into the shadows of her own mind while her body erupted into that of the large, feral mutant.

A guttural snarl ripped through her throat as she rasped out the name of her opponent before throwing herself from the rooftop and shifting midair into a deadly pounce. Her prey sighted, Rogue's claw-like hands found purchase on Logan's shoulders and Rogue howled with savage rage. The the motorcycle went flying forward without its rider while Rogue's sudden impact sent the two mutants rolling backwards into a newspaper stand.

Logan found his feet an instant before slamming into a brick wall and rose with a challenging growl. Rogue leapt up just in time to see Logan's claws glitter through the air before slicing through a tall lightpole with the painful screech of metal on metal. She raised her arm to block its fall before crumbling under the weight of the heavy iron bar.

Logan took a step forward. A growl died in his throat before he froze, sniffing the air. "You're not Sabertooth," he accused, backing into a defensive stance. In Rogue's mind, Sabertooth would have none of it. He would _not_ be robbed of this opportunity to beat Wolverine.

"Fight me!" Rogue commanded in Sabertooth's voice, hefting the light pole and brandishing it at Logan like a spear. She missed Logan's head by mere inches.

"Now I _know_ you're not Sabertooth," Logan mused, and glanced to his left as the sound of tires screeching announced the arrival of the rest of the X-Men. Cyclops thrust himself from the driver's seat, his hand flying to his temple to activate his eyepiece. Logan didn't have time to warn him before Rogue was launched backwards and through a brick wall by twin red lasers.

The only plus side to not having any control over her body was that she was only dimly aware of the pain of being thrown through a wall. She had hoped that the shock of such a violent impact might shake Sabertooth enough for her to take back control, but she was wrong. Still in Sabertooth's form, she prowled through the walls of industrial shelving and wooden crates. She heard the echoes of voices and stalked toward them, intent on forcing her prey into submission.

"Rogue!" one of the voices called. "Are you in here?" The rush of happiness that usually accompanied Cyclops's voice shook Rogue back to reality, and she shuddered out of Sabertooth's form and into her own. "Talk to me," he pleaded. She fell into a shelf and clutched at it. "Tell me what's happening! We're here to help you."

Even in this terrible situation, she sighed sadly. If the concert seemed like a year ago rather than a couple of hours, the ride to school that morning seemed like a hundred. Rogue's heart had clenched painfully as Kitty sang about Jean's date with Scott, and a desperate envy had burned through her. Much as her modern post-feminist side resented the idea, another part of her truly wished that Scott _had _come to save her. But no, she thought as flashes of his memories slid behind her eyes: Jean cradling his face after a particularly nasty scruple, his lips pulled back in a pleased smile. She remembered his desperation when Jean's powers got out of control, and desperately wished that he would react so strongly now that her own abilities were spiraling out of her control. But Scott always had been and always would be Jean's White Knight. Rogue gritted her teeth against his memories even has a ghost of him in her mind seized the opportunity to overpower her. Gloomily, she knew she hadn't fought him as intensely as she had the other personalities in her mind. Where Scott was concerned, she always gave in too easily.

Rogue straightened, growing taller as her limbs shifted into the musculature of a toned male. She smiled cockily before scaling the nearest wall of shelving with ease. She spotted Cyclops on the other side and cocked her head. She hadn't realized that she was angry with him before, angry that he had chosen Jean, that he couldn't see how much she cared for him. She wondered if he would be able to beat his own powers blasting back at him. Silently, she made a stealthy running jump down the side of the crate wall, landing catlike before him.

"Hey, big-shot," she crowed. "Better help yourself!" And with that she activated his power and sent him through a wooden crate and sliding to a rest at Logan's feet. She sneered and darted behind another wall. It wasn't through a brick wall, but she had every intention of giving as good as she'd gotten earlier.

The smile died on her lips to be replaced by a horrified cringe. What was she doing? Why was she so angry? She tried to think back over the night but her memories slipped through her grasp like water. She was vaguely aware that something bad had happened, but what? She paused and tried to focus her attention.

So much so that she was unprepared when the phantom of Avalanche knocked her aside and everything went dim.

Her muscles became lanky and her eyepiece melted into a full helmet. She glared at no one in particular, gathering the energy of the earth as easily as if she were beckoning a friend. Her eyes rolled back as her right foot came down in a powerful stomp that shook the building to its foundation. Shelves crumpled and wooden crates slid sideways and splintered on the concrete. _This_ was real power. _This _was colossal destruction, and she gloried in the seismic force at her disposal.

In her mind, she registered that she didn't want it, however. Though more exhausted than she had ever been before, Rogue still knew that this aimless release of energy could hurt a lot of innocent people, and she couldn't let that happen. She was an X-Man, not some Brotherhood barbarian!

She slid back into her own form and slumped forward, breathing heavily as she gripped s nearby shelf to remain upright. She was panting, her chest heaving in painful half-sobs. A crate stirred to her right, and Logan emerged from underneath it, followed by Cyclops. She ached, everything hurt and she wasn't sure how long she had before someone else emerged to steal her body again.

"Help me," she mumbled, the fragility of her voice surprising even her. She needed this to be over, and she didn't care how anymore how the X-Men ended it.

"We will, Rogue," Logan promised. "Just stay calm."

"We're your friends," Cyclops reminded her, extending a hand in her direction.

_Friends._

The word triggered the final, agonizing shatter of her psyche. Images of Risty raced through her mind: her contagious laughter, her dazzling smile. The last vestiges of Rogue's control collapsed with more force than anything Avalanche could do.

_Friends. _Risty had been her friend. Before she wasn't. Rogue was alone. She was a swirling swell of rage and betrayal, and she wanted everyone to know the perfect force of her wrath.

And what better demonstration of that wrath than the fury of a perfect storm?


	6. One Spark of Hope

_Okay, y'all. This may or may not be the last chapter. I haven't decided on whether or not I will do an epilogue._

_DISCLAIMER: As always, I own nothing of this story but the drama going on in Rogue's mind. Enjoy!_

Rogue blanched at the word. _Friends._ Images of Risty, her lively "friend" slid through her mind like something tortured and distorted. Her chest tightened and a bolt of rage rose from her belly.

"I have no _friends!_" She spat as the white streaks of her bangs blended swiftly into her lengthening hair. Her pale, almost purplish skin warmed to a deep caramel color as she threw out her arms to meet the billowing winds that had sprung from nowhere. She was dimly aware that she was rising from the ground. She gathered the force of her gale and threw Logan and Cyclops unceremoniously from the warehouse. Lightning played around her splayed fingers, flickering around the edges of her vision.

She could just barely make out Jean and Cyclops over the roar of the wind as she rose from the warehouse, regaining her outward appearance as she did so. This wasn't Storm, or Magneto or Sabertooth. This glorious rage was all Rogue. It was her fury at being used for hours by a plethora of ghosts in her head, at being so thoroughly outshone by Jean in Scott's affections. It was at being a mutant at all, unable to touch, unable to _be_ touched. It was for being deceived by Risty. Mystique. Her Mother. It was all the same. But most of all it was for being left so utterly, excruciatingly alone.

She didn't care what happened, what she had to do. She had spent far too long hyper-aware of her mutation, ever on the alert that she might hurt someone. But tonight she didn't _care_ anymore_._ They were all the same, all out to hurt her and she would destroy them _all_. Her eyes gleamed with Scott's destructive power as her hair billowed around her face like a very misplaced halo.

She would destroy everything. And she would take savage pleasure in it. Rogue snarled as she sent a laser streaking at the X-Men. Jean lifted her teammates and dragged them backwards out of harm's way.

Rogue was lining up her next attack when a shriek of reverse wind announced the X-Jet cutting its way haphazardly through the gusts. Rogue grinned languidly, madly. Nothing could stop her; certainly nothing made of _metal_. A wave of her hand sent the jet tumbling through the air to her left and she groaned with primal satisfaction. They were attacking her, inside her head and out of it, but she would not be contained.

She hovered almost lazily over the scene, raining lasers nonchalantly down on the X-Men as they scrambled for cover. Inside her mind, however, her psyche was in turmoil. The phantoms in her mind clamored for her attention, each one buffeting her with their power, each one chanting in unison: _Alone. Alone. Alone. _It fueled her rage as she indiscriminately chose her targets running on the ground beneath her.

Rogue grunted in surprise when she suddenly felt her body being forcibly dragged back to earth by Jean's telekinesis. She was livid. Her other threats here were faceless and of little importance beyond a cursory knowledge of what powers they held; against Jean Grey, however, Rogue held a personal, venomous grudge. She braced herself against Jean's onslaught and, allowing herself a growl of satisfaction, flooded Jean's mind with her own telepathy, lifting her roughly with her telekinesis and sending her flying backwards. Rogue was rewarded with a pained scream.

Cyclops stepped in front of Jean, and Rogue retained just enough of her sane self to feel dejected at his protective stance. She faltered just an instant in her blinding rage—why was she doing this again?—when he sent a beam of red heat in her direction. She quickly slid back into her state of towering wrath and blocked it telekinetically. There was an answering thrum of power at the impact before Rogue returned fire with a well-aimed bolt of concentrated lightning. She missed by an inch as he leapt backwards.

Rogue focused on conjuring another bolt when a pop of suction—familiar even in this splintered state—sounded from over her left shoulder. She whirled around as arms and legs circled her.

"You're coming with me, Rogue," Nightcrawler announced gruffly, locking her in place and readying to bring her to the ground below. She felt the tell-tale pressure, the uncomfortable sensation of the teleport's hold on her body, before she twisted away from Nightcrawler. She sent him sprawling to his intended destination, but returned to her original place above the fray.

She steadied herself mid-air from the teleport when Storm sent a formidable blast of wind at her.

"Rogue," she pled. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you hurt any more people!" Rogue's stomach plummeted with the sudden spike of barometric pressure as Storm raised a column of wind around them. Lightning hurtled toward her as she raised her hand to intercept it. There was so much electricity. Her throat burned and she could taste something metallic in her mouth. Rogue raised a hand and gathered the power to her. Thunder pealed once, twice, three times as it chased separate bolts into Storm, who faltered under their combined strength.

It was getting overwhelming, maintaining the rage, fighting to keep control of her mind and battling the X-Men's constant attacks all at once. Her fury was giving way to exhaustion and the mental threats were blurring with the physical. She needed help, she knew she did, but she couldn't tell who she was fighting anymore or what was real. She was dimly aware of Logan giving gruff demands below her, but she couldn't make out his words over the ghosts in her mind as they howled for control. Rogue brought her hands to her aching head, moaning in pain. She couldn't last much longer. She curled into an airborne fetal position and prayed for the whirls of anger and fear to stop.

Logan's bear-like arms enveloped her as he used his forward momentum to send them hurtling to the ground. She gasped, calling on the winds to steady them somewhat before they could smack into the pavement. There was an instinctive terror, a paralyzing dread to falling that she couldn't escape. The wind whistled around her and she couldn't will herself to breathe. She felt Logan twist in the air so that he was at her back before a bone-crunching crash announced their impact onto a car's roof.

She rolled off of him and split into several copies of herself, vaguely sensing that she would need more power to beat Wolverine in a fight. Five sets of Rogue's eyes locked onto his in challenge.

He was panting, his body probably healing a broken rib or two from their crash landing. "Rogue." He his breath hissed through his teeth. "I know what it's like for nothing to make sense in your head. I've been there."

Rogue reached for the adamantium coating Wolverine's skeleton and twisted. She raised an arm and bid the metal to splay his arms and legs from his body as he hung a foot off the ground.

Rogue withdrew a step as lasers flared into being around the eyes of her four copies. The combined force of so many sent Wolverine flying onto the side of a heavy van. Rogue and her copies charged him with angry snarls, each teleporting at the last moment before appearing in a tight circle around Wolverine. They lifted him again, suspending him by his own bones.

"Listen to me, kid," he rasped as he twirled in a slow circle. "The others inside you, you're letting them push you around. The Rogue I know wouldn't take that off of anybody!"

Rogue recoiled, her irritation coming sharply into focus. _What?! _He didn't understand at all! Amidst the towering, gyrating fury of her anger and betrayal, somehow this small misunderstanding managed to break through. She was suddenly aware of the damage she had inflicted on the surrounding streets, and not to mention her teammates. Her thoughts, while still a little sluggish with the trauma of the evening, were becoming more linear. She gasped, too terrified to even begin to believe she might be coming back to herself. In that moment she knew that Logan, _someone_, believed in her. Even if he didn't know all of the circumstances behind her behavior or understand exactly what was going on in her mind, he still had faith in her. Her dark, pillaring anger was shot through with the striking of a single spark, one spark of hope.

She whimpered, recalling the copies and rubbing her eyes weakly. But the fight was back in her as some sort of last reserve of strength seeped slowly back into her mind.

"That's right," he encouraged. "Stand up to them." Rogue hit one knee, drawing in her arms to cradle herself and releasing Logan from her magnetic hold.

"Logan. There's too many of them!" She swung her arms in a vain attempt to fight off her attackers.

"Fight it, Rogue." He crouched beside her. "Stay tough."

The phantoms of Magneto and Juggernaut resented the treatment when Logan brought his hand up to stroke Rogue's hair. But Rogue reveled in how nice it felt. She'd remained outside of human contact for so long. Sabertooth roared with vigor in her mind, intent on attacking Wolverine directly. Rogue rebelled against it with only half of her attention. She was trying to remember how long it had been since someone had touched her. She couldn't remember the last time she hadn't been perpetually anxious about contact with her skin. She was mesmerized. When Sabertooth slammed against her control, she wasn't ready.

"No!" She cried aloud. He was unrelenting as he clawed at her control, but he fell back with the arrival of someone new. She couldn't register who it was, but they wanted control of her mind, she was sure of it. "No!" This time it was in denial. She would _not _return to that place of rage and darkness. _"NOOO!"_ This was half plea-half demand that he stop, that they all stop and let her _be_. There was a faint echo of several of their voices in her cry, but she couldn't make them all out. They were winning. She was failing, and she knew instinctively that should she lose control this time, that it would be well and truly lost forever.

_Stop resisting me, Rogue_. The force overtaking her in her mind urged her to stand down. She glanced up. Professor X wheeled gravely toward her, and even in her state of total panic she recognized a familiar sense of peace at his presence. _Help me. We can wipe out those personalities together, one by one._

Rogue moaned. Her head was aching, but she forced herself to stop fighting and listen to Professor X.

"Come on," Logan urged. "You can do this."

The professor helped her reassemble her shield of light just as he had begun to teach her to do as soon as she joined the X-Men; it was to prevent this sort of transference. This time, however, they were not only shielding her mind. They were fighting off the mob of personalities who threatened to overtake it. Rogue groaned, falling forward so that her hands and knees were planted painfully on the asphalt. Her fingers curled into fists and her nails bit into her palms as she faced the ghosts in her mind.

Naturally, her first opponent was Cody Robbins, the football player whose innocent touch had had the misfortune of befalling her previously latent mutant abilities first. She focused all of the strength she could, all of the renewed vigor she'd received only moments before from Logan, and channeled it into meeting Cody's memory in her mind. Together, she and the professor flooded the boy with concentrated, psychological _power_ until his form disappeared from her mind.

She immediately felt the change from having just one less person in her mind. The thrill she received from the small liberation hit her like an espresso shot. She could actually imagine that this might work!

A shadow of Nightcrawler dissolved into nothingness; Quicksilver put up more of a fight, but he too vanished in the end. With each expelled personality, Rogue felt her senses returning to her. It was like emerging from a nightmare and finding that the sun had risen outside. She could _do_ this!

Storm and Cyclops went next. As she met Blob, she felt the curious and still unfamiliar sensation of her body stretching out to meet his proportions. She was suddenly aware that her body must be taking the shape of each person she eliminated. The idea was dizzying, so she hastily ignored it.

Mystique—she felt cold, but this time controlled, anger. Risty—her heart wrenched. Kitty, Sabertooth, Avalanche, and Arcade were gone in short order. Magneto was more forceful, but with renewed Rogue's renewed fervor at the idea of possible freedom from the personalities, he too disappeared. Jean, Toad, Beast, and finally somehow hardest of all was Juggernaut. Perhaps his phantom in Rogue's mind prided himself on being "unstoppable" as well.

Rogue was suddenly aware that her throat was hoarse from screaming. She was shaking, almost feverish and her limbs felt like rubber. But her mind was blissfully, blessedly her own as she collapsed into Logan's arms.

Just before her eyelids finally surrendered to exhaustion, she thought she saw a flash of something red waving from a nearby rooftop like a flag. Perhaps there was a flicker of blue skin. But then Logan's arms felt so warm and comforting that she didn't much care who else was out there.

**KaliAnn: Thank you! I appreciate your feedback.**

**Kamiragem: I hope this was soon enough!**

**Mistyfoxmaid: You're right, it definitely was about time. Thanks for your patience!**

**high lord mage: Why, thank you!**


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